


The Curse of the Sweater Monkeys

by smithereen



Category: Disney RPF, Jonas Brothers
Genre: Cheerleaders, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Sibling Incest, a little bit of Demi/Joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19411213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: Joe is doomed. DOOOOMED! And also, a cheerleader.





	The Curse of the Sweater Monkeys

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in November 2009.

Joe was cursed. Ever since he'd dropped the spirit stick at Cheer Camp this summer, it was like the entire world was out to get him. It had started out with little things. His best purple sweater got completely torn up in the washing machine. His last haircut had been a floppy disaster that made him look 9 years old. His ex-girlfriend told all the other girls at school he was a jerk with a small dick, and also probably gay. But lately it seemed like it was more than that. Lately the universe was getting _mean_.   
  
Like two months ago, he'd been talking to Nick between classes, and he'd slammed his hand in his locker door, which meant he'd missed out on a week and a half of practices because you couldn't really lift people or throw them into the air and then catch them without your hands. And then he'd fallen through a window in the middle of physics, and granted his physics class was on the second floor and he'd landed in some bushes, but just because the universe hadn't managed to kill him that time didn't mean it wasn't _trying_. Worst of all, he'd broken his nose in a botched roundoff at Regionals. Regionals! God, if they hadn't made it through to Nationals because of that, Nick would have literally killed him. No one screwed up a roundoff. It was like- Screwing up a jumping jack. There was no possible way he could have just messed that up on his own. So it had to be fate. It had to be the curse.  
  
"I think the universe is trying to kill me," he said to Nick after he tripped over Nelly Yuki's violin and tumbled down half a flight of stairs.  
  
Nick rolled his eyes and kept eating his turkey sandwich.  
  
"I'm serious, dude. Ever since I dropped the spirit stick-"  
  
"Joe," Nick said. "Don't be an idiot."  
  
That was Nick's answer for _everything_. "I mean it." Joe picked up his apple, looked at it and them put it down. "I could have broken my neck."  
  
"Yeah," Nick said. "You could have, but that's because you weren't watching where you were going. You never watch where you're going. It has nothing to do with some stupid stick."  
  
"But what about when I got hit in the head last week with that baseball?"  
  
"The baseball that you threw yourself? Into the air right above your head?" Nick said.   
  
"Yeah, but the universe got sun in my eyes!" Joe explained. "And what about when I-"  
  
"And what about when you broke your leg when you were ten jumping off the roof?" Nick interrupted. "And what about when you cracked your elbow when you were fourteen because you thought you could balance on a soccer ball? This isn't something new, Joe."  
  
Joe frowned. Sometimes it was really hard to talk to Nick about stuff. "Never mind," he snapped. "Maybe you'll believe me when I end up beheaded by the garage door or whatever." He stomped off dramatically, and then stomped back to grab his apple off the table, and then stomped away again. He was kind of tired from all the stomping by the time he made it out to the bleachers, so he didn't bother getting up when Nick sat down, rattling the metal bench beside him.  
  
"Joe. What the hell?"  
  
Joe looked down at his hands, digging his fingernails into the skin of his apple to leave little white half moon shapes in a neat row around the bottom of the fruit. "I just-" Joe said. "It's my senior year. It's supposed to be the best year of my life."  
  
Nick leaned over and bumped Joe's arm with his elbow. "Come on," he said. "A lot of good stuff has been happening too."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I heard Camilla Belle has a crush on you," Nick said. Joe raised his eyebrows, a little half smile turning his mouth up before he could catch it and turn it back into a pout. "And we got an A on that physics lab."  
  
"You got an A," Joe said. "I knocked over the scale." That was kind of the good part about being lab partners with Nick, your grades were guaranteed. Of course the bad part was it was a little embarrassing to be in the same class as your kid brother, the sophomore, the kid who was taking like all the AP classes in the world, and had somehow become co-captain of the cheerleading squad despite the fact that captains were never sophomores. Or boys. Nick made everyone around him look like a slacker.  
  
" _We_ got an A," Nick insisted, and he smiled a small crooked smile. Joe ducked his head, and nudged Nick with his elbow, grinning, feeling a little silly. A little giddy kind of. There was no bad part to Nick really, Joe decided.  
  
Nick nudged him back. "You got into UCLA. That was pretty awesome."  
  
Joe felt his smile turn brittle. "Yeah," he said. "That was pretty awesome." It wasn't even one of his safety schools; it was his first pick. And Kevin was constantly talking about how cool college was, and yeah. It was awesome. But it was also really far away. Like only come home on Thanksgiving and Christmas far away. Possibly it was the kind of far away that was a little bit scary. Not that _he_ was scared. He wasn't some little baby. He was just saying, he would be by himself. It was going to be- Different. But awesome. Yeah.  
  
Joe smirked his biggest smirk and tried to lean back like he was Mr. Big Man on Campus with his hands behind his head, but he tipped too far and fell onto the foot part of the bleacher behind them, the apple jarred out of his hand, the breath jarred out of lungs in a shocked huff.   
  
"Whoa," Nick said, catching his elbow to keep him from sliding any farther. Like maybe right through the giant empty space that led straight down to the very hard, very far away ground where his apple had just splatted. "Careful."  
  
"It's the universe," Joe said. He scrambled back up onto his seat, feeling shaky. "It's-"  
  
"It's not the universe," Nick said. "You're just- You need to be more careful." He still had a pretty tight grip on Joe's elbow.  
  
Joe took a couple deep breaths to steady himself. It was obviously the universe. He was doomed. If Nick didn't want to see it Joe couldn't make him, but there was no reason Joe had to take the whole squad down with him. "Maybe I should sit out Nationals."   
  
"You can't-"  
  
"I could ruin our chances."  
  
"You're not sitting out." Nick was getting that look, the stubborn, heels dug in look he got sometimes that made him almost impossible to reason with.  
  
"You saw what happened at Regionals, I could-"  
  
"Joe," Nick said. "Come on. Over a stick someone spray-painted gold and stuck some rhinestones to. Really?"  
  
"I'm _cursed_ ," Joe said.  
  
"You are _not_."  
  
"I am _so_."  
  
"You have to go to Nationals," Nick said. His grip on Joe's arm tightened until Joe winced. He looked down at the toes of his Converse when he said, "I need you to be there."  
  
Joe knew that he was still right about the curse, and Nick was still wrong. But it was kind of hard to remember that when he was smiling so hard his cheeks were aching. He draped an arm around Nick and pulled him in against Joe's shoulder, wrapped his other arm around Nick too, squeezing him tight in a sideways hug. Nick tensed, and Joe could tell he was darting glances around like trying to find out if there was anyone cool around to see this. But the marching band kids were the only people out on the field, and no one would ever accuse them of being cool. Joe could feel Nick relax, his head tipping forward, chin touching Joe's arm where it crossed over Nick's chest. And Joe just- He just loved Nick so much. He snuggled the side of his head into Nick's shoulder with a contented sigh.   
  
"Okay," he said. "If you just can't do it without me."  
  
"I mean, I could," Nick protested immediately, starting to struggle a little against Joe's arms. "I don't really-"  
  
"No," Joe said. "It's too late. You already admitted it. You're useless without me." He propped the point of his chin on Nick's shoulder and kept holding on even when Nick started to punch him in the ribs. Nick finally managed to topple them both over onto the bench, and Joe knocked his head, a loud ringing clang against the metal seat. He blinked stupidly at the pain. Nick froze stretched out on top of Joe, his chest heaving, his hands coming up to cradle the back of Joe's head.  
  
"Are you okay?" he said. His thumbs were massaging into Joe's hair, into his scalp. "Did I-" He licked his lip nervously, and Joe watched him, watched his tongue flick out against the plump swell of his bottom lip, watched his teeth catch on it. His elbows were pointy and poking into Joe's ribs, and his weight was all made up of angled awkward bones and the solid muscle he'd built up on the squad. And he was really close.   
  
Joe felt weird. Really, really weird. Kind of like he was stuck, like gravity had gotten extra heavy all of a sudden, pulling at him harder than normal. And he kept looking at Nick's mouth, at how his lip was shiny now that he'd licked it. At how it was right there. Close.   
  
Nick stood up, and he offered Joe a hand, and Joe took it. Let Nick heave him up with his warm hand, and followed him down the bleachers, and tried not to stare at Nick's bottom lip when he bit at it with his white teeth, tugged it into his little mouth.   
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" Nick said, reaching up to touch Joe's head again. "Maybe you have a concussion." Joe leaned into Nick's hand, pushing against it like a cat, his eyes unfocusing, lids lowering lazily. He didn't notice when they ran out of bleachers, tripped over the ground being too close and sprawled out into the grass. Nick crouched down next to him, grinning and shaking his head. "Spaz," he said affectionately. He grabbed Joe by the arm and heaved him back up to his feet. Joe stumbled into him, the wind still knocked out of him, the solid bump of Nick's chin into his head making his teeth click shut sharply. His heart was beating like the marching band behind them had somehow snuck inside his chest.   
  
"Shut up," Joe said with a groan, the flat of his palm pressed to the sore ache in his shoulder. "It's the curse."  
  
He was so doomed.  
  
*  
  
"You're not doomed," Selena said, rolling her eyes before International Relations class. "I've dropped the spirit stick before, and you don't see me falling out any windows." Selena was always so frustratingly _logical_. Joe didn't really _mind_ logic exactly. He just felt like there was a time and a place for it, and now was not the time.   
  
"You're coming to my party this weekend, right?" David said, clapping Joe on the shoulder between classes. "It's going to be epic." David was awesome, and the guy could hold an entire girl in the air with one hand and not even wobble; but the closer you got to the weekend the harder it was to have a conversation with him that wasn't about getting laid or getting high.  
  
"Please tell me you're kidding," Miley said, shoving him in the back of the head during Spanish class. "And you better not be late to practice again today, Jonas." Miley and Joe had one of those love-hate relationships where mostly the love expressed itself in her hitting him a lot and abusing her power as co-captain of the squad to make him do extra push-ups. He made a mental note to dump some Gatorade down the back of her shirt later.   
  
Joe thunked his head down in keyboard class, and then quickly sat back up when the keys blasted out an ugly mess of notes at ultra loud volume. Joe plugged his headphones in sheepishly with an apologetic wave at the startled class, and then banged his forehead back down onto the keys, silently this time. He seriously needed better friends.  
  
"Hey." Demi plopped down at the keyboard next to him. "I think I've figured out how to fix your little problem." Joe turned his head on the keys to get a better look at her. Her dark hair had purple streaks in it this week. He liked them more than the red ones from last week. A lot more. "Have you considered gypsies?"  
  
"Considered them for what? A Halloween costume?  
  
"Gypsies know all about curses," she said. "Putting them on, taking them off. You should look into gypsies."   
  
"You should stop watching so much _Buffy_ ," Joe grumped. He sat up abruptly. "Wait. You mean you believe me?"  
  
Demi shrugged and pulled some gum out of her backpack. She gave him a piece and then wound the wrapper around her finger, twisting the top into a point. "I don't know," she said. "I don't _not_ believe you."  
  
Joe squinted. "Thanks?"  
  
"I mean I don't know if I buy all this spirit stick crap." Demi was not really into things with rhinestones on them or school spirit or things that were unironically pink. Demi was into thick black eyeliner and heavy metal music and bracelets made out of safety pins. And Kelly Clarkson, but she tried to keep that on the DL. She'd basically just joined the squad because Selena wanted to. She could do a wicked back handspring though, so Miley and Nick overlooked the fact that she refused to put the regulation bow in her hair and sometimes on game days she wore combat boots to class with her little pleated skirt. "I'm pretty sure curses are a real thing though," she said. She stuck the little gum wrapper cone she'd made in her mouth and blew it at him. It bounced off his throat and into his lap.   
  
Joe leaned over and dragged her in close, clinging gratefully to her neck. "You are my only friend," he said. She snorted and patted at his head, her pats getting harder the longer he didn't let go. She tried to elbow him off finally, but he kind of spent five days a week throwing girls in the air, so an elbow was not about to dislodge him. He smirked, and dug a tickling finger into her ribs. She wriggled, her foot stomping down on his sneaker just hard enough to warn him that her boots were made for kicking. And while he was thinking about whether holding on was worth losing a toe, she licked a thick, gross stripe across his neck, his ear. Joe jerked away, letting her go with a wild flail of his arms. He grimaced and touched his wet ear. A little of her dark purple lipstick was smeared onto his fingers when he looked at them.   
  
"Awesome," he said sourly.  
  
She laughed and lunged over, pressing her lips to the edge of his jaw hard, and again, again. Her lips were soft, and her mouth was wet, and he kind of didn't mind it that much. At all. But he groaned and shoved at her like he did. He smeared at the marks with the heel of his hand, wondering vaguely how much worse he was making it. She flicked a glance over at Mr. Long to make sure he wasn't paying attention. He was never paying attention. There was very little actual playing of the keyboard that took place in keyboard class. Mostly he and Demi just talked about who had the worst haircuts, and shared Doritos, and tried to make each other laugh. Whoever made the other cough up soda through their nose won.   
  
Demi pressed her lips one more time against the underside of his chin, pressed hard like she was leaving a stamp. She grinned at him, flicking her eyebrows up. "I'm the only friend you'll ever need," she said.  
  
She flipped open her little hand mirror to redo her lipstick now that it was all on his face instead of on her lips. He snagged the mirror from her hand and looked at the open Os of her mouth pressed purple into his skin like bruises. He scrubbed at his neck with the side of his hand again, frowning disapprovingly at her. "What is this, waterproof or something?" he said. But maybe he didn't scrub away the one behind his ear, half hidden in his hair.   
  
He was just kind of a fan of purple.   
  
*  
  
"What is that?" Nick said, halfway through their physics lab. "Did you fall down again?"  
  
Joe squinted, thinking about it. "Probably?"  
  
Nick reached over and touched Joe's neck. "You have to be more careful," he said. "How did you even-" His thumb pressed against Joe's skin, and Joe fumbled the pen he'd been twirling through his fingers. He slammed his palm down on the table, catching it just before it rolled off the edge. "What is-" Nick looked at the purple on his fingers, his face twisted up in confusion.  
  
"Oh. That," Joe said. "That's not even from the curse. That's just lipstick." Joe rolled his eyes.   
  
"Nothing is from the curse." Nick kept rubbing at Joe's neck, his fingers smoothing strong and callused down over Joe's skin. It felt nice. "There is no curse."  
  
"Demi believes me," Joe said. "Or anyway she doesn't _not_ believe me."  
  
"A ringing endorsement," Nick said. Joe winced as Nick's fingers dug in painfully. Okay, that didn't really feel nice anymore.  
  
"I think you got it all," he said.   
  
Nick blinked, and scrubbed his fingers on his jeans. "Yeah." He hunched back over their lab report, biting at the side of his pencil. Joe watched the way his teeth crunched down into the pencil's yellow sides, the little crooked dents they left. He glanced over at Joe. "Are you going to help me finish this, or do I have to do everything myself?"   
  
Joe flinched a little at the tone. "Nice mood swings, dude."  
  
Nick pretended to work one of the formulas. Joe could tell he was pretending because he kept erasing everything two seconds after he wrote it. He glanced over at Joe, leaning forward over the wide lab table. He glanced over again, and then hooked his fingers under the seat of Joe's stool and dragged it closer to him with a loud screech. They both winced as heads came up all over the room. Miss Nelson frowned at them, but then Nick shrugged a sheepish apology in her direction and she was all smiles. That was basically how all teachers reacted to Nick. Nick slid their paper over to Joe, and leaned in, his shoulder bumping into Joe's.  
  
"I bombed my European History test," he said. Which was the same thing as sorry in Nick-speak.   
  
Joe bumped him with an elbow. "And by bombed you mean you got a B-."  
  
Nick shrugged, not denying it. Joe laughed, his head dropping down close to Nick's. He nudged Nick again, watching the little smile build on Nick's lips.  
  
*  
  
Joe huffed out a hard breath, his legs pumping, heart thumping as he rounded the track for the third time. Sweat poured down his face, stinging in the corners of his eyes. He swiped at his forehead with the sweatband on his wrist. Stupid laps. What was the point of your brother being co-captain of the squad if he didn't even let you off doing laps if you happened to be like five- ten- Well, fifteen minutes was not even really that late. Or anyway, it wasn't his fault he was late. A lot of stuff could happen between the last bell and the locker room.   
  
The sun was hanging low, blinding Joe when he came around the corner of the track again. He squinted into it and kept running. By the fifth lap he usually stopped being pissed off that he was still here while everyone else got to go home. By the fifth lap, he started to empty out. All the worrying about what his dad was going to say about his Pre-Calc grade, or wondering how completely stupid he'd sounded when he talked to Camilla Belle today, or thinking about how far away UCLA was. Everything emptied out but the sound of his own feet thumping against the track, the harsh puff of his breath, loud now that most of the football team was gone and Miley's bullhorn was packed up for the night. Now that Nick was finally giving his whistle a rest. By the sixth lap, he started to kind of like it. The burn in his chest, in his legs, the way it built and built inside his body.  
  
Footsteps closed in behind him during the seventh lap. He slanted a quick glance over as Nick pulled even with him, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth with concentration, his curls damp with sweat from practice. They ran silently next to each other, footsteps falling in a steady unison against the hard packed clay. During the tenth lap, Nick started to push a little like he thought this was a race. Joe pushed harder. Nick was better than him at a lot of things, but not this. He powered forward, grinding through his exhaustion, stride widening in the final stretch. He glanced back at Nick, grinning. Nick shook his head once, eyes narrowed as he had to pull up, his breath coming hard. Joe trotted through the end of the lap. He bent over with his hands on his knees, just breathing for a moment. Trying to anyway. The two of them walked a bit farther around the curve of the track. Nick nudged him, their sweaty arms sliding together.   
  
"You know," Joe said. "If you would stop giving me laps, I could drive you home sooner." He pushed Nick away from him with a sharp shove to his shoulder. "Just saying."  
  
"If you'd stop being late I wouldn't have to," Nick said, rolling his eyes. "How are you _always_ late?"  
  
"How do you know it's not you who's always early?"  
  
Nick snorted. Joe lifted a tired arm, and Nick slid in closer to Joe's side. Joe dropped his arm down heavy on Nick's shoulders. He was still overheated from the run, sensitive with it, too hot to be this close really. But Nick gripped a handful of Joe's sweaty t-shirt in the small of his back, leaning in. Nick smiled up at Joe, his face flushed, his skin shining smooth and gold in the waning light. Joe smiled back at him helplessly, pressing his chin against the top of Nick's head. His thumb slid over the slick, smooth jut of Nick's collarbone. He watched the sweat trickle down past Nick's jaw. He licked his lips, pressed the band on his wrist to the wet curve of Nick's neck. And then he walked straight into the wall next to the locker room door.  
  
Nick laughed way harder than Joe thought was necessary.   
  
*  
  
Nick was sitting at Joe's desk when Joe got out of the shower that night. He was poking around on his laptop, playing just the beginning of one song after another like he kept changing his mind what he wanted to listen to 35 seconds in. Joe tossed his towel over at Nick, a perfect shot that landed heavy and wet, half draped over Nick's head. Joe dug some boxers out of his dresser, slipping them on quickly over his shower damp legs. When he turned around, Nick was looking really hard at the screen on his laptop. The towel was in his lap, his fist clenched tight in the center of it.  
  
Joe flopped down on his bed. He briefly considered doing his economics homework, but that's what the ten minutes before first bell were for. "What're you doing?" Joe said.  
  
"Just playing with the mix for Nationals," Nick said. "I think we need to punch it up a little." He had that furrow between his eyebrows, that taking it all too seriously furrow. Nick took pretty much everything too seriously, especially if there was any chance of getting a trophy out of it. He'd taken Little League too seriously all the way to State. And he'd taken football too seriously until he had to admit he was too small for it. He'd even taken golf too seriously despite the fact that he wasn't a middle-aged banker. Cheerleading had been kind of an accident though.   
  
There'd been this girl, which was how most of Joe's accidents started out, and she'd been a cheerleader. Long story short, Joe tried out for mascot because he thought it would be cool to watch her jump around a lot in skimpy outfits from up close. Plus, you got to wear a giant animal costume, and Joe had never met a giant animal costume he didn't like. He'd ended up on the squad because they were desperate for guys, and even though Joe wasn't really what you'd call a gymnast he'd been tossing Nick around in the backyard since they were kids. He'd stayed on the squad for three years because well, he liked it.  
  
The first time he had a meet, the whole family came. And as soon as Nick got a good look at the judges' table, the crisp uniforms, the trophies lined up all golden and shiny, it had been over. He stopped being so serious about football or baseball or golf. He started training with Joe on weights, on the trampoline. Of course it helped that he was good at it. Joe got the job done, but Nick was something else. He wasn't the strongest guy on the squad, still not quite grown into the solid strength that was starting to settle over his skinny bones, but his tumbling was beautiful: precise and controlled and elegant. And he didn't just know the stunts inside and out, he built new formations that no one had ever done before. With Miley's choreography, and Nick's tricks there was actually a chance they could crack Top Ten at Nationals this year. Maybe. Unless Joe tripped over bad luck or slipped in a puddle of coincidence or something.   
  
"Want to hear it?" Nick said. He flopped face down onto Joe's bed next to him, his fingers playing over the keys absently, not actually typing anything. Joe nodded. "It's not done." He didn't look at Joe while it was playing, suddenly very interested in the thread unraveling on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, but Joe caught him glancing over once or twice. Joe did the robot, and then moved into the higher difficulty seated booty shake. Nick muffled his smile in his fist.  
  
"Nice," Joe said. "Mix Master Nick strikes again." He leaned over to hit repeat. Nick batted his hand away.  
  
"It's not done," Nick said again, shrugging modestly. The effect was somewhat ruined by the pleased smile that widened on his face. He looked away, shutting the laptop down. "I was watching some Rancho Carne videos online, and they have some new stunts they've been working on." He bit at his bottom lip. "They look really good."  
  
"Well, they're kind of expected to win," Joe said. "They're supposed to look good."  
  
"I don't think our tricks…" Nick trailed off and scrubbed his hands through his curls tiredly. He settled in next to Joe on the bed, one leg bent. "I mean our choreo's good, but I don't know if we really have that wow factor." His foot tapped against Joe's leg. "We don't get the height they've been getting on their tosses. Maybe if we put in some extra practices. Sunday nights or-"  
  
"Nick," Joe interrupted. "We're not going to win Nationals."   
  
Nick frowned. "Not with that attitude we won't."  
  
"Three years ago we didn't even go to Nationals," Joe said. "Last year, we made Top 25. This year, we'll do better than that. But we're not going to win." He pushed Nick toward the wall, dodging Nick's disgruntled elbow. "You can add as many practices as you want, but all it's gonna do is wear us out." Nick unraveled a little more of the loose thread on his sleeve, his jaw clenched stubbornly. Joe reached over to squeeze his shoulder. "You still have two more years before you graduate. Plenty of time. You'll get it."  
  
"Yeah, but this is your last year," Nick muttered. He frowned at Joe like it was Joe's fault they still didn't have enough experience or enough guys on the squad to pull off some of the stuff the big, established squads like Rancho Carne did. "I want it _this_ year," he said.  
  
Joe felt his face heat up, his insides going kind of squishy, as he got what this whole thing was about. He pulled Nick over practically into his lap, dragging him into a fierce hug, his face buried in Nick's soft curls. "I've decided I'm bringing you with me to UCLA," he said. "My duffle bag is really big. And you're pretty small. I'm gonna pack you instead of clothes." He nuzzled against Nick's neck, tightening his arms around Nick's ribs. "You're okay with that, right?"   
  
Nick was laughing, curling in on it helplessly, bent a little over Joe's arms. His mouth was wide open with it. He turned until his strong, thin arms were circled tight around Joe's waist and lunged into Joe's chest like he was tackling him. The two of them rolled backward, Nick's feet kicking. Joe laughed too, pleased, let Nick push him down into the mattress, the solid weight of Nick on top of him. Nick's hands were pressed down underneath Joe's back, squished into Joe's skin. "You're getting so heavy," Joe said happily. Joe squeezed Nick's bicep, smiling at the hard bulge of muscle underneath the material of his sweatshirt. "How much do you lift now, 280?"   
  
Nick laughed, his cheeks flushing, his ears red at the tips. He wiggled his hands underneath Joe's back, digging them out from under Joe's weight. He thumped Joe's bare chest, a stinging snap of his fingers. Joe grunted and reached under Nick's sweatshirt to pinch Nick's belly, putting a mean twist into it, twisting until Nick's mouth fell open. He grabbed on hard to Joe's hair, pulling, baring Joe's neck. Joe loosed his fingers, stroked the tips of them over Nick's skin where it was red and roughed up. He pulled Nick's sweatshirt back down all the way, stroking down over the material, poking at Nick's belly gently. Nick pressed his fingers against the new lump on Joe's head, soft and searching. He touched the darkening bruise on Joe's collarbone from the stairs the other day with his thumb, pressing down slowly until Joe winced. He stroked his fingers lightly over the scrape on Joe's elbow. Joe wasn't even sure how he'd gotten that one. Joe shivered, staring up at Nick's face. Nick's eyes were dark when he met Joe's gaze, and his cheeks were red like he'd been running. His mouth was a little open. Joe felt hot, heavy, like all his blood had just turned to syrup. He reached up and touched Nick's bottom lip with his thumb, poked at it clumsily, the soft swell of it crushing into Nick's teeth. Nick jerked back. His tongue pushed up against the inside of his lip, feeling at it, his brow furrowing. Joe followed, sitting up when he backed away. He plucked at Nick's lip with his fingers, pulled it down so he could see. It was swollen up on the inside.  
  
"Oh," he said. "Sorry, I was-" He stopped. He didn't really know how to finish that thought. He didn't really know what he'd been trying to do. Nick pushed him off, shaking his head. He sucked at his lip, poking at it with his tongue again. "You want a free shot?" Joe said. Nick shook his head again. Joe laced his hands behind his head. "Anywhere you want."  
  
Nick looked at him. He had his thumb tucked up inside his lip, feeling at it with his fingers. He looked Joe over like he was cataloguing every rib and filing away every dark mole. Joe felt himself tense up with the waiting, felt himself start to go heavy, skin hot, guts twisting sweet and sudden as Nick reached out. Joe flinched, but Nick just clasped him on the shoulder, his hand curved warm on Joe's skin. "You want to make it up to me?" Joe nodded, a little breathless, as Nick's fingers clamped down harder. "Do your economics homework," Nick said, a tiny grin curling his lips. His fingers slipped a little way down Joe's chest as he took his hand back.   
  
Joe groaned. "You couldn't just hit me?  
  
*  
  
Joe tightened his grip on the bar, his knees bent as he pushed the weights up above his head, straining to finish another set of military presses. He huffed out a low breath and brought the weights back down to the ground, shaking his arms out, rolling his shoulders. He grabbed his water bottle and turned to watch Nick finishing up a set of dead lifts. Nick's shoulders strained against his thin white shirt as he straightened up. He bent over again, loose basketball shorts on his narrow hips. His forearms popped with wiry muscle, his calves tensing. Joe took another swallow off his water bottle, tongue swiping out to catch what spilled over when Nick tucked his lips inside his mouth, shaking a little with effort. Joe swiped his wrist against his forehead.   
  
When Nick set down the weights he was breathing hard. He clapped his hands together in front of him, shaking out his legs. "Stretches?" he said.  
  
"Yeah, I'm done for the day," Joe agreed.  
  
They sat facing each other with their feet flat together. Nick's hands wrapped rough around Joe's wrists, pulling him forward into the burn that crawled up the back of his legs, settling in deep. Joe leaned back, easing Nick forward, his muscles tensing up, hard under Joe's fingers. Nick dropped his head down between his shoulders, his spine curved like a bow. Joe shifted his grip, his fingers stroking the underside of Nick's wrist where it was soft and smooth. Nick pulled him forward again, fingers digging into his skin. Joe's spine stretched until it gave a crack. The ache built up in his legs again, hot, good. His dick thickened up a little in his shorts.  
  
Joe rolled onto his back, with Nick above him. Nick got a good grip on the inside of Joe's knee, one hand pushing Joe's leg closer to Joe's chest, one hand holding Joe's other leg down against the mat. Nick's hair was dark with sweat. His skin was shiny, smooth and slick where the V of his shirt dipped down. His cheeks were flushed high up in thick blotches. He huffed out a hard breath through his mouth, his lips red from how he'd been chewing on them earlier. Joe watched his tongue flick out, wet. Nick's weight was heavy, pushing, his fingers digging into Joe's skin. Joe grunted into the burn. A dark, sweet twist of heat wound low and tight in Joe's gut.   
  
Joe felt weird, slow and strange and like his skin was alive, as he stood up. Nick lay back, and Joe took hold of his knee where it was hot and bent, slick with sweat. He leaned. Nick looked up at him, dark eyes narrow in concentration, head tipped back so Joe could see it ripple along his neck when he swallowed. His leg folded back, slowly, slowly under Joe's weight. Joe's other hand tightened on Nick's thigh, keeping it flat when it tried to press up off the mat. Joe slipped forward, fingers skidding on Nick's sweat slick skin. He caught himself on one hand against the mat, squashing Nick's leg underneath him.  
  
Fuck, he was so hard.  
  
His head tilted down like it was too heavy to hold up. Nick looked up at him, and his lips were so red. Joe just wanted- Nick's face twisted with discomfort. "Joe," he said, shifting. "You're kind of crushing me."  
  
Joe stood up, fast. He backed up while Nick untangled himself more slowly. He kept backing up, trying not to think about Nick's skin or Nick's lips or how his hair flopped down over his forehead like it needed someone to touch it, like it- He stumbled into the rack of free weights, falling heavily against it. He watched the weights collapse slowly, futilely reaching to try to keep them from dropping but they were already clanging and clattering heavily against the floor, the lighter ones rolling off in all directions. Nick picked up a ten pound dumbbell that came to stop near his foot. They were both half-way listening for footsteps, for their dad to come charging down the basement stairs.  
  
"Boys!" the bellow came right on cue. Joe flinched.  
  
Nick hefted the weight in his hand, grabbing another from the floor on his way to put them both back on the rack. "Maybe you _are_ cursed," he said with a chuckle.  
  
"Demi thinks I should look into gypsies," Joe said faintly. He watched Nick's lips curve up, couldn't stop watching Nick's lips as he flashed his crooked teeth. Nick held on to Joe's shoulders, shook him back and forth. Joe felt it deep down, like every push of Nick's fingers, every brush of Nick's chest against his back was hotwired right to his dick.   
  
God, he was so fucking doomed.  
  
*  
  
When Joe thought about it, and he thought about it a lot, couldn't stop thinking about it actually even when he was trying really, really hard to sleep. Or eat his cereal. Or learn calculus. (Yeah, like that was going to happen.) When Joe thought about it, that time he'd fallen out the window Nick had been leaning in close to recalibrate something on their scale, and his curls had still been a little wet from the shower. He'd smelled like the shower, kind of soapy, and Joe had thought about burying his nose in the curve of Nick's neck to see what was underneath that soap smell. And then he'd gotten like, nervous. Like about to make a speech in front of a bunch of people, sweaty palms and butterflies, nervous. For no reason. And when he'd tried to step back, away from that weird tightness inside him, he'd ended up in the bushes.  
  
And that time he'd slammed his hand in his locker, Nick had been laughing at this impression Joe was doing of his English teacher. Joe had been watching the way he curled in on the laugh, like he was protecting it inside his belly with his eyes squinched shut, and his mouth wide open. And the time Joe had gotten hit in the head with the baseball, the sun had been angling in against Nick's chest, bright against his collarbone, against his neck where his cap's shadow didn't reach. It made the dark spattering of his moles stand out against the bleached bright. And that time Joe had fallen down the stairs, he'd been halfway turned around looking at Nick talking to Miley about some choreography. The two of them had been hunched over a notebook, probably figuring out new ways to torture the squad with lift drills or something. Their heads had almost been touching. They'd been smiling, and their fingers brushed when Nick shared his pen.   
  
When Joe thought about it, it was pretty obvious that none of it had anything to do with the stupid spirit stick.   
  
*  
  
Joe was drunk. Drunk, drunk, druuuuunk. He laughed and tripped over possibly his own toes. He knocked into the doorframe, catching his shoulder. He stayed leaning into the wall for a minute. He just needed a minute so his legs could remember how walking was supposed to go. He tilted his head into the wall. It felt cool against his forehead. "You put your right foot in," he sang softly to himself. He looked down at his feet and wiggled his right toes inside his sneaker. He could kind of see them wiggling through his shoe. He laughed again. Toes were awesome.   
  
"You're so wasted," David laughed into his ear. Joe startled in slow motion, a slow ripple up his spine and a lazy jerk of his shoulders. He tried to roll his eyes back so he could see David behind him. It made him dizzy. He shut his eyes, but it still felt like he was spinning. He smiled.  
  
"I'm remembering which foot," he said.  
  
One of David's hands came down on the nape of his neck, pulling him up from the wall. He scooped Joe forward with an arm around his back. Joe leaned backwards into David's arm. He touched David's sideburn with his finger. David heaved him down on the couch. "Hang out there for a little while," David said. "I'm finding you a ride."  
  
"Okay," Joe said. He crawled farther up the couch, spreading himself out, lying down. He closed his eyes just for a second. When he opened them, Demi was sitting underneath his head.  
  
"When'd you get here?" he said, blinking. Her fishnets were rough on his cheek. She ran her fingers through his hair, dragging her short black nails against his scalp. His eyelids drooped.  
  
"A while ago," she said. "David thought maybe you needed babysitting." She tugged on his hair. "Since when do you get hammered?"  
  
Joe shrugged lazily, and plucked at her tights, trying to fit his pinky through one of the fishnet holes. "I like it. I feel really… Watery."  
  
"What?" She was laughing at him.  
  
"Like I'm underwater. But more dry. And I don't have to hold my breath."  
  
"So, kind of the opposite of being underwater," she said.  
  
"Yeah," he agreed. "I don't know." Everything seemed broken apart a little bit, a little streaky and wet even though he wasn't. Wet. He didn't know how to make it words. "I have like-" He touched his head. "Thoughts. But they don't-" His fingers touched against her fingers in his hair. She pinched his thumb. "I like it," he said. He thought maybe he'd already said that. She was still laughing at him. He didn't really mind. He laughed a little too.   
  
He sat up too quickly, everything going unsteady, his head feeling like it was dragging behind the rest of the world. She laughed harder, her hands coming up to cover her wide, pretty mouth. She pointed at him with one of her fingers. He blinked at her, cocking his head. He wished he could see her mouth. She touched his cheek, still laughing. "Your face- You kind of have-" Her nose crinkled up. Her fingers traced against his skin, traced tiny diamond shapes. Little sideways squares. He smiled and traced a circle on her shoulder where her shirt had slipped down a little. Her skin was so soft. "Fishnets," she explained. "Not the best pillow." Joe made a sideways square on her shoulder. He slid his finger down the slope of her collarbone. His finger touched the little hollow in her throat. Joe stared at his finger. He looked up, and she was staring down at his finger too. David loomed over them suddenly, his arms braced on the back of the couch.   
  
"Yo," David said. "Nice face." He poked Joe in the cheek.  
  
"Thanks," Joe said. He thumbed over the sharp little bone on the side of Demi's neck hollow.   
  
"Find Nick?" Demi said.  
  
"Not yet," David said. He turned to look behind him. "Ashley said some people went down to the lake, so he might have been with them." He said some other stuff too, but Joe stopped listening. He could feel himself crumpling up on the inside slow, slow.   
  
"Hey," Demi said softly, David gone again before Joe noticed. She rubbed the heel of her hand against his cheek. He wasn't crying, he didn't think he was, but it was shiny wet when she held it up. "What's wrong?"  
  
Joe shook his head and scrubbed his own hands over his face, rubbing as hard as he could.   
  
"Hey," she said again, her small fingers prying his hands off his face. "Hey," she said. Her voice was soft, and kind of low. Sweet. She pulled him into a tight hug. "Hey, it's okay." Her hand stroked against his hair, and she was soft against him, and she smelled so good. She felt uncomplicated in his arms, just warm and beautiful and no shock of anything sharp-edged underneath. She felt like Demi, like the best girl he knew. He held on tight, licked a little at the curve of her neck. "Joe-" she said, pulling back. "What-" He kissed her wide, pretty mouth with his eyes closed and a hard desperate push of teeth, of tongue, of his hands on the wicked curve of her waist. She sank underneath him, her surprise fading into a soft whimper, the slick slide of her tongue past his lips. Her skin was so soft under his hands, and he wanted this. He was going to want this. It was so easy to want her, her legs bent by his waist, and her hands on his hips, in his hair, and her breast fitting just right in the palm of his hand when he squeezed it through her shirt. She arched into his hand, her head falling back on her neck, and then she tensed up under him, her body doing a hard wiggle that pushed him up off her, her hands shoving him so his lips came off her neck.  
  
"Hey, Nick," she said, soft and kind of jagged like she'd forgotten a little bit how her voice worked.   
  
Joe looked up slowly, his eyes dragging up past the smeared lipstick on Demi's lips, and her hair messy from his hands, and up, up until there was Nick standing beside the couch looking at them with his shoulders tight by his ears and his lips twisted up inside his mouth.   
  
"Come on," Nick said, the words sharp and impatient. "I'm taking you home."  
  
*  
  
Nick pulled over to let Joe throw up, his seatbelt tight against his chest as he leaned out the open car door and heaved. He closed the door weakly, and Nick jerked the car into motion a little too heavy on the gas. Technically Nick probably shouldn't even have been driving since he only had his learner's permit. But Joe didn't feel up to arguing with him over it. He kept his eyes shut, the motion of the streetlights, the houses streaming past them making him dizzy. His stomach rolled.  
  
Nick eased quietly into the driveway, and cut the engine off. The automatic light outside the garage came on, and Joe blinked into it, his head pounding. They sat for a moment, listening to the ticks of the cooling engine. Nick looked at his watch, then at the front porch. He looked over at Joe, his lips pressed together disapprovingly. "Maybe if we go in the back, you can get up the stairs before mom sees you." He frowned and licked at his fingers. Joe watched his pink tongue spread wide against them. His own tongue flicked out against his bottom lip like an echo. He felt sick. "You look like you ate a box of crayons," Nick said. He scrubbed his wet fingers against Joe's lips, against his chin. Joe went a little cross-eyed trying to watch him, but then he started to seriously feel like he was going to throw up again so he stopped. He rubbed his own curled fist over his lips. Nick grabbed his chin and turned his head from side to side, roughly. "And you need a shower. You reek."  
  
He moved to open the door. Joe held onto his sleeve, pulled on it weakly. Nick paused. Joe stared at the back of his neck, at the little knob of bone right before the collar of his shirt started. He reached out and touched it with his fingers. Nick shuddered under his hand, a delicate quiver.   
  
The automatic light clicked off again.   
  
Nick shot him a glance over his shoulder. He reached over and pressed the button on Joe's seat belt. It slid across Joe's chest slowly.  
  
"Thanks," Joe said. He didn't really mean for the seatbelt. He thought about it for a second and then added, "Sorry." That was probably as close as he was going to get to covering everything.  
  
*  
  
Monday came way too soon. The nice thing about the weekend was you could hide from all the friends you'd kind of acted like an idiot in front of, and all the friends you'd kind of dry humped sort of accidentally. Demi had called a couple times. He hadn't answered, and she hadn't left a voicemail.  
  
Joe flicked on his keyboard nervously, and then flicked it off again. He played the first few bars of **She's Like the Wind** with the sound off. Demi came in just before the bell like she always did, and sat down at the empty keyboard next to him like she always did. He smiled at her nervously.   
  
"On a scale of one to ten, how bad did I screw up this weekend?"  
  
She shrugged, cocking her head thoughtfully. "Like, six?" She offered him a stick of gum.   
  
"Dem." He tried to stop jiggling his knee, but even when he wrapped his hand over it, it just kept bouncing. "I really like you," he said. "Like, more than pretty much anyone."  
  
She picked at her nail polish. It was dark green this week. "Yeah," she said. "I like you more than several people too."  
  
"Do you want to, I mean- We could go to the movies," he said awkwardly. "Or something."  
  
She darted a look up at him. "We were drunk," she said. "We made out. It happens. Then we pretend it never happened." She was using her tough girl voice, but she only ever picked her nail polish when she was nervous.   
  
He tugged on one of the purple chunks in her hair. He leaned over, whispering close to her ear like he was telling secrets. "I liked kissing you," he said.  
  
She looked at his lips long enough that he was sure she had liked kissing him too. Maybe if he just liked it enough then he wouldn't want- Anything else. Maybe if he sunk himself inside her as deep as he could- She touched his chin lightly, just below his mouth and met his eyes. "Don't make it weird, okay?" Her voice broke a little, and he felt like the biggest jerk in the world for thinking he could hide behind her. For not quite being the guy she deserved.   
  
"Yeah," he said. "Okay." He eased away from her, and they both sat there silently for a second, waiting for it to stop being weird. Joe turned his keyboard on and offered her one of his earbuds. "Come on," he said. "I'm about to go straight Casio on your ass."   
  
She grinned and slid the volume up higher. "Hit me up, yo."   
  
Joe thought probably they were going to be okay.   
  
*  
  
The thing about avoiding Nick was it was impossible. They were on the same cheerleading squad. They were lab partners. They had the same lunch period. They kind of lived in the same house, and sat next to each other at dinner, and brushed their teeth at the same time alternating spits into the sink.  
  
When Joe tried to eat lunch with Demi and Selena instead of Nick, Nick figured out where he was in like, two seconds flat and sat down across from him at the table, setting his tray down hard with a loud clack. Joe tried not to look at him, but he kicked Joe in the shin until he had to. He was staring at Joe like he was trying to find the zippers the body snatchers had used to get inside their Joe suit or something. It made Joe feel like he'd kicked a puppy, so he handed over his mac and cheese and did impressions of Miss Nelson until Nick smiled.   
  
When Joe cautiously suggested that he and Nick switch lab partners with David and Brenda, Nick snorted.   
  
"No," he said flatly, leaving absolutely no room for argument.  
  
"David's way better at science than I am," Joe tried to argue anyway. That ended about how he'd expected it to; with him losing so badly that they were not only still lab partners, but he'd also somehow agreed to mow the lawn this week even though it was Nick's turn.   
  
Joe tried hanging out with Frankie at home, Legos instead of Xbox with Nick and **Finding Nemo** instead of James Bond with Nick and rollerblading in the driveway instead of extra tumbling practice with Nick. Mainly all it did was remind Joe that Frankie was kind of annoying.   
  
Joe stopped getting up early to run before school because sometimes Nick got up early too and wanted to go with him. He got up earlier than early instead to be safe. Joe just felt like he needed that thirty minutes on his own, thirty minutes when he didn't have to think, when it was just the sound of his feet thudding against the sidewalk. Nick didn't say anything about it or ask him what was going on; but one morning when Joe came down to the kitchen, the sun not even up yet, Nick was already there. He had on his running shorts and his sneakers, and he glared at Joe like he was daring him to say Nick couldn't come. Like he was braced up to argue about it. Like he thought Joe didn't want to hang out with him. And Joe just didn't- He didn't like Nick looking at him like that, like he thought he had to fight to _make_ Joe want him around or something. Like he thought Joe didn't want him.   
  
"Race you to the Dairy Queen," Joe said, giving in. Giving up. It was worth it to watch Nick try to hide his smile.   
  
*  
  
Joe bounced on the trampoline in the backyard. The sun was setting, hanging low behind the house, as he turned a neat back tuck. He bounced as hard as he could, jamming his legs down, catching the bounce just right, flying up so high his arms pinwheeled in the air for control. He bounced down again, turned a wild no armed cartwheel, his form shot all to hell. He laughed when he lost his balance, the trampoline still bouncing underneath him where he fell.  
  
The tramp rippled as Nick pulled himself up onto the other side. He bounced tentatively from one foot to the other, like he wasn't sure he was welcome. Joe caved under the hesitation on Nick's face, couldn't think about anything past getting rid of it as fast as he possibly could. He pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, and came at Nick in wild, wide jumping steps, launching himself forward and taking them both down. Nick laughed, clinging onto Joe's waist as they bounced against each other, knees and elbows colliding. Joe held Nick down underneath him for a second in the settling aftershocks, just because he could, just because he was still strong enough to. Nick scrabbled with his feet for better leverage, used the trampoline to bounce up, jostle Joe's grip. He rolled them both over, still laughing. He looked so happy. Joe thought probably he'd do anything to be the one who made him look that happy. Joe hooked his finger in the collar of Nick's shirt, but Nick was already somersaulting backward, away, rolling gracefully to his feet. He jumped hard just next to Joe, jouncing him on his back, his feet barely avoiding Joe's arms, his hips. Joe lay still, watching Nick's face lit up with laughter, his hair flying with every big bounce, waiting until Nick reached a hand down to pull Joe back to his feet.   
  
The two of them bounced together, alternating jumps to catch the height. Nick did an impeccable full twist. Joe shook his head. "Show off," he said, jumping down hard near Nick's feet to steal the bounce. Nick pushed at him, and jammed his feet down to send Joe flying.   
  
The sun was down by the time they were completely tired out, leaving just a thick stripe of deep gold behind the trees. They lay on their backs next to each other. Joe watched the moon get brighter where the sky was fading from pink to a darkening purple. Nick's elbow was pressed against Joe's arm. His bare foot flicked over and tapped against Joe's toes.  
  
"Do you _really_ believe in curses?" Nick said quietly.  
  
Joe felt a sick rush of something like fear, something cold like shame. "Why?" Joe turned his head to look at Nick in the dim. He kept his voice light when he said, "Did you walk under a ladder or something?"  
  
Nick shook his head. His eyes were tilted carefully toward the sky. Joe stared at his profile, the slope of his nose, the swell of his lips. His hair looked soft. Joe wanted to touch the curve of his ear. Nick rubbed his arm absently, fingers curling. "I just feel cursed," he said after a long time.  
  
Joe scoffed, reaching over to rough his hand through Nick's curls, so soft under his fingers. "Why, because of your perfect report card? Because you haven't been grounded since you were ten? Because you're good at literally everything?" He pushed Nick's head playfully, careful to keep his hands rough and hard and playful. "Because you're so good-looking? Yeah, your life really sucks."  
  
Nick laughed, but it sounded kind of bitter. He looked over at Joe, his eyes glittering, shining in the deepening dark. "That's all just- Whatever." He curled onto his side, suddenly seeming really close, the bright glitter of his eyes and the shadowed shape of his face, the glint of his teeth behind his open lips. The trampoline moved when he did, rolling under Joe like a wave. Joe stared at Nick, watched him wet his lips nervously, watched the way his lips moved when he said, "My life's not that great."   
  
Joe's forehead furrowed. He curled over onto his side, mirroring Nick. He smoothed his thumb over Nick's eyebrow. "Tell me."  
  
Nick's face crumpled. His fingernail scraped back and forth over the plastic weave of the trampoline. He looked at Joe, his face twisted up half angry and half sad. His teeth bit down into his bottom lip like he was locking his mouth shut, keeping himself from saying anything. He shook his head.   
  
"Why do you feel like you're cursed?" Joe whispered.  
  
Nick's fingers inched over, scratching across the trampoline until they were touching Joe's shirt, twisting at the thin material. His mouth was a little bit open, each breath pushing hard, sped up fast between his lips. Joe watched his tongue flick out, leaving his lips shiny slick. Then Nick's lips just barely pressed against his, testing, careful, tensed like he was expecting Joe to pull back. Like Joe didn't have every curve of Nick's lips, every flick of his tongue memorized. Joe didn't have to think; it felt like something he'd been waiting for so long it was like it had already happened before. Joe tangled his hand in Nick's shirt, pulled him in tighter. He lipped at Nick's mouth, coaxing slow and lazy. Nick opened up for him easily, all the tension in him falling away as he melted into the curve of Joe's chest, his ankles tangling with Joe's feet, his sharp elbows, his hot skin curled into Joe, boneless and close. His hand drifted absently over Joe's back, over Joe's neck, as Joe kissed him, kissed him, tasting him slick and wet. Joe's body flooded with heat, swimming in it. He shuddered with the sharp scrape of Nick's teeth, with the hot, soft push of Nick's tongue. Nick made a little noise, soft in the back of his throat, a little overwhelmed, helpless noise as Joe licked into him, sucked at his mouth, his lips so open for Joe, so eager as he pushed close, close as he could get. Joe rolled them over, rolled on the wave of heat rising in him, so he was on top of Nick, propped on his elbows above him, kissing into him, his hips shoving down gently. Nick cried out, a hurt, shocked sound when Joe bit at his lip, tugged at it, his hips rolling, grinding his hard dick into Nick's.  
  
Joe pulled off with an effort at that noise, his eyes heavy lidded, his lips dragging his head down like they were too heavy for his neck to hold up, touching against Nick's lips, touching in soft, helpless pushes even though he was trying to stop, trying to make sure Nick was okay, make sure he wasn’t hurting Nick. "Should I stop?" he said, hovering over Nick's mouth, his eyes flicking to Nick's swollen lips so plumped up, so slick, so red. His thumb stroked against Nick's lip gently, and Nick hissed. "Should we stop?" Joe said, forcing himself to look Nick in the eyes.   
  
Nick's eyes were dark, unfocused. "Joe," he said, his voice small and breathy, his hips lifting up in jerky seeking motions, his knee hooking over Joe's hip. "Don't be an idiot," he finished, a little of Nick's bossy sharpness coming back as he got a good grip on the back of Joe's head, as he pulled Joe down to his open mouth. Joe laughed into him, their lips bumping sloppily together on smiles and too much teeth for a moment before they found their slick sliding rhythm again. Joe's hips ground down, Nick's hips grinding up, his leg pressing Joe closer. The trampoline rolled underneath them with the motion, shoving them into each other deeper, in waves.   
  
Nick clung onto Joe's shoulders suddenly, his body curling tight, his hips moving in hard jerks. He trembled under Joe's hands, exhaling soft grunts as he came shakily, Joe kissing into his panting mouth. Joe rocked against him, kept rocking with noisy pants until the heat inside Joe became a sharp pointed rush that curled his toes, made him rut hard and helpless into Nick, until he came with a low groan on his lips and his forehead pressed into Nick's slick, flushed cheek. He sagged into Nick, his whole weight covering Nick up, and Nick just took it. Just wrapped his legs around Joe's waist, wrapped his thin, strong arms around Joe's neck. Just laughed with his mouth wide open and lifted his swollen lips and kissed Joe again, little sweet teasing kisses until Joe kissed him back, thick and dazed.  
  
Joe nuzzled at his face affectionately, nosing at his cheek, at the curve of his neck, carding his fingers through Nick's soft curls. "I'm so doomed," Joe said, smiling.   
  
end


End file.
